


one year celebration

by scythian_andromache



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Celebrations, Don't copy to another site, Families of Choice, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, background Joe/Nicky, background andy/quynh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25714813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scythian_andromache/pseuds/scythian_andromache
Summary: As immortals, time quickly blends together, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't celebrate the milestones and the happy moments.Or: Five times the Old Guard celebrated being together for a year.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf & Nicky | Nicolò, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 184





	one year celebration

**Author's Note:**

> no beta we die like immortals (and then bounce back to make even more mistakes)  
> based on a tumblr prompt

“It’s been a year since we met; we should do something to celebrate,” says Andromache.

“Has it?” asks Quỳnh, laying on the pallet next to her. They find themselves once again in the middle of the desert, although this time by choice, and with better supplies.

“Well, within a day or two,” hedges Andromache. “Admittedly, I don’t have instruments to measure the stars more precisely.”

Quỳnh forgets, sometimes, how long Andromache lived before meeting her, how much knowledge she’s acquired. She knows that she spent several years at sea, and that she learned to use the stars to navigate, to tell time, to guide her into the unknown. Out here, far away from even the campfires of a settlement, they shine bright, the Silver River high overhead, sparkling in the clear, inky black sky. Quỳnh finds it beautiful that Andromache thought to calculate their time, track their movements in the stars above them.

“What did you have in mind?” asks Quỳnh.

Andromache’s smile, even in the depths of the night, is positively _devilish_. “Oh, I’ve got some ideas.”

* * *

“It has been a year since the four of us got together,” says Yusuf, one evening, as they are sitting down to break their fast.

“Already?” asks Andromache, pouring out a liberal measure of wine into her goblet, and then doing the same for Quỳnh and Nicolò. Yusuf still isn’t entirely sure how old Andromache is, but the passage of time is already starting to blur for him, so he understands her confusion. 

“That can’t be right,” argues Nicolò, brow furrowing. “We met them in late September, Yusuf.”

“The equinox is not for another week,” says Quỳnh, which is neither here nor there, although as Nicolò recalls, they didn’t meet Quỳnh and Andromache until after the equinox.

He jumps at it. “See? Not a year.”

“ _Habibi,_ you are using the Julian calendar again,” says Yusuf, a mix of fondness and resignation in his tone. They’ve clearly had this conversation before. “By the Hijri, it was exactly a year ago today, and I think that deserves a celebration.”

That’s good enough for at least one of the others. “Hear, hear!” cheers Andromache, raising her goblet and then draining its contents, before turning to press a kiss to Quỳnh’s cheek. “Milestones like these must be celebrated!”

If Nicolò hadn’t been looking directly at Quỳnh, he might’ve missed the way her cheeks reddened slightly. There’s a story there, he’s absolutely sure of it.

“Yes, milestones are indeed important,” she echoes, a glint in her eye.

“We shall revel tonight!” Andromache declares, looking at her fondly.

“And if we find some wrongdoers,” adds Quỳnh archly, looking at Yusuf and Nicolò in turn, “so much the better for us, and so much the worse for them!”

* * *

“It’s Booker’s one year anniversary, today,” says Nico, nudging Andy’s shoulder.

Andy nods absently, gazing out the window with one of her thousand-yard stares. “We should celebrate,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching up a little.

She hasn’t been the same since she lost Quỳnh, not really; she’s retreated into herself, even as she continues to lead their little ragtag team. Nico’s sure she’s remembering the celebrations of yore, and then she shakes her head, snaps herself out of it.

“Macarons, maybe? Sébastien is aggressively French, he would probably like that.”

“And perhaps a cheese plate while we’re at it,” adds Nico, glad that they’re going to continue this tradition, even if it feels strange without Quỳnh there.

That gets half a snort out of Andy. She looks at him a moment. “We’ll do this right,” she vows.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll go tell Yusuf, shall I?”

Andy nods, and they get to work.

The look on Booker’s face makes it all worthwhile, and for just a moment, everything feels _right_ again. It doesn’t last, but it was nice to pretend.

* * *

“It’s been a year, Nile,” says Andy, handing her a small wrapped package. “Happy anniversary.” Her face is tired, her smile sad, and Nile knows that Andy doesn’t just see her, but every single one of the immortals that came before her.

“Thanks, Andy,” she says, and sets it aside to open later, because she just has this tingling feeling that it’s going to make her cry.

She thinks that’s the end of it, but when she comes into the kitchen for dinner, there’s a balloon (slightly battered, reading “It’s a girl!”) and a slightly lopsided cake on the table.

“Ah, _passerotta!_ ” exclaims Nicky, turning from the frypan. “Happy one year of immortality!”

“You didn’t have to do this,” she says, and Nicky shakes his head.

“It is tradition,” he insists, “and in the dark times, you must celebrate the light, yes? You are a reason for us to celebrate.”

It’s a lovely dinner, it really is, but Nile can feel the undertone of melancholy. There has to be a way to convince them that they’re all better together. She can’t rectify Quỳnh’s loss—there’s not even a way to track down the iron maiden because it’s been a while since she had a dream about her, but from the others she understands that the dreams come and go—but maybe she can find a way to bridge the gap with Booker.

She makes that her mission for the next year as they cut into the very delicious spice cake that Nicky and Joe made.

* * *

The mattress dips hard and bounces as a foreign weight lands on Andy’s bed. Andy springs awake, defenses up, and in her bleariness sees only Nile, lying next to her, a grin on her face.

“Mphgff,” mumbles Andy, falling back into a horizontal position, and she shoves her hand into Nile’s face, pushing her head away. “Sleeping. Go ‘way.”

In response, Nile licks Andy’s hand—one is never too old to utilize that technique—and Andy hisses, cracking an eye open. “What, and I cannot emphasize this enough, the fuck.”

“It’s been a year.”

“Your concept of time is more fucked up than I thought,” grumbles Andy. “It’s been almost two and a half.”

Nile’s face gets closer, until she’s almost nose to nose.

“Do you need help with the concept of personal space?”

“It’s. Been. A. Year,” repeats Nile, punctuating each word with a poke.

And—oh. A year since they convinced Quỳnh that a murderous rampage was not the way to go, a year since they reluctantly teamed up to take down another Merrick-esque operation, this time headed by Dr. Kozak, who’d somehow managed to escape the lab, a year since Quỳnh and Booker were brought back into the fold. Since all six of them have been together, however tense it’s been at times.

“We’re celebrating,” says Nile. “So get your ass up.” She bounds out of the room, and Andy takes a moment to smile at Nile’s enthusiasm, and the fact that she remembered their hodge-podge tradition.

When Andy hauls herself into the kitchen, she finds everyone else already there; Quỳnh, too, looks absolutely murderous at the fact that she’s up before noon, but Andy knows she has a soft spot for Nile a mile wide. 

“And how, pray tell, are we celebrating today?”

“Well,” says Nile, looking pleased with herself. “We’re doing a family dinner tonight. Joe’s agreed to make couscous.” Joe takes a bow. “Nicky’s doing the dessert.” A smirking smile from the aforementioned party. “Booker brought some fancy champagne from a valley I can’t pronounce.” _There’s hard liquor too_ , Booker mouths, which earns a look of approval from Quỳnh. “And for this morning, I rented out a paintball concourse for us.”

“Paintball,” says Andy neutrally.

“I get to use you all for target practice,” says Quỳnh, delighted.

“And I won’t have to body block your shots at Andy for once,” Nile snipes, only half joking—she had, in fact, taken several of Quỳnh’s bullets for Andy early on.

“I get to shoot Booker without anyone sending me dirty looks,” says Nicky, only half joking, and Joe high fives him while Booker makes an offended face.

Nile turns back to Andy, looking hopeful, and Andy suddenly hopes that she never loses her spirit, never becomes jaded like she, herself, is. She raises an eyebrow at Nile. “You’re all going _down._ ”

Nile grins. “Pancakes first. And Copley has magnanimously agreed to send some dossiers over in case there’s a criminal organization we’d like to dismantle as a team building exercise.”

There are murmurs of approval, and she looks around at each of their faces, this strange little family that she’s acquired. She hopes that she’s the last immortal, that this won’t happen to anyone else. But just in case it does, she’s going to make sure this particular tradition lives on, because even when time blends together, it’s important to celebrate milestones, to celebrate having each other.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! (comments/kudos always appreciated)


End file.
